


When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun

by boyfriendswhoboyfriend



Series: Hey Moon, Please Forget to Fall Down [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Just pretty words that make up a story, M/M, This is pretty much self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyfriendswhoboyfriend/pseuds/boyfriendswhoboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, that spot above Harry's heart would ache for the comfort of its soul mate, the pitter patter of its agony beating like the most beautiful drum Harry had ever heard.  So, no.  Louis would always be that beat in his heart, and Harry would never be alone."</p><p>The fic where Harry is alone in his backyard, and Louis is the sun Harry stays up all night to look at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Just a whole lot of pretty words stringed together to make something that might not make sense but it is oh, so beautiful.
> 
> Some self-indulgent writing 'cause if I could, I would write like this all the time.
> 
> Inspired by this tweet: A very nice gentleman once said, "Mostly i wish you joy. Joy is the most important thing in life. Wherever it can be found."

            Did the stars always shine so bright at night, when their beauty could only be appreciated by wandering souls and seasoned lovers?  It certainly made sense, that only those lost in the world could see the beauty of something much bigger than all of them.

            Harry wasn't lost, no.  But maybe he was, lost in a world of his own making, where Louis was the president, and Harry was his first lady (or gentleman?). 

            Louis never made any sense in Harry's mind; he was all perfect body and perfect teeth and perfect hair and even perfect, blue eyes.  It didn't make sense, really.  How could anybody jump into those blue eyes, swim through that hair, trek the height of those cheekbones, without being able to shout from the rooftops such an accomplishment?  Rubbish, that's what life was most of the time.

            The soft grass underneath Harry's body tickled his bare arms and his bare legs, the wind blowing the blades of grass to and fro, hitting Harry's skin like strangers trying to clamber all over his body, trying to read the pigment of his skin.

            It was true, what they said.  Harry's tattoos were a story, a story of who he was and who he could not be.  Ink was a poison and it was a saviour, and for Harry, it was more than those two words.  It was the only way he could show his love for Louis.  It was that simple.  The ink meant his story could be free, even if he himself was shackled to a world that didn't understand love.

            Was Louis looking at the same sky right now, or were his sparkling eyes and tinkling laughter facing other affections?  It didn't matter. No, not even today.  Louis was, and always would be, a sparkling star that became too big for itself, outshining the world with its luminance.  Sometimes, that spot above Harry's heart would ache for the comfort of its soul mate, the pitter patter of its agony beating like the most beautiful drum Harry had ever heard.  So, no.  Louis would always be that beat in his heart, and Harry would never be alone.

            Harry liked to think of himself as the moon, that one object in the sky that people liked to admire from afar.  He wasn't self-centered, or starving for attention.  He just liked the idea of being able to connect with people, even if their only mutual understanding was his beauty.  But who was he kidding?  So maybe the moon did love the attention, but the moon also went down at night to let the sun shine.  And that was Harry's job.

            It didn't matter where he went or what he did: the most important thing in his life was that boy with the cutest nose he had ever seen (or kissed).  Pictures never did any justice to Louis' beauty.  What a shame that was, but it wasn't too bad.  Harry liked knowing that he was the only one who could truly see Louis, the way his mouth parted in breathy moans or the way his eyes scrunched up in utter pleasure.  Or the way his skin felt under his fingertips, soft and delicate and oh so sinful, guiding his pale skin to a warmth he had never felt.

            So, yes, Harry was the moon and Louis was the sun.  And maybe they danced when nobody was looking, and maybe they loved each other in secret, but Harry wouldn't trade it for anything.  For he knew that the sun had warmth, and he was only a piece of rock that shone too bright when everybody just wanted to close their eyes and sleep.

            "Harry! You goober, what are you doing lying in the grass like that? You'll ruin it!  Come inside, mum's calling you for dinner."  Gemma's voice cut through the silence in the backyard, shaking Harry awake from his job of being the only one able to stay awake to see the sun begin to rise.

            "Yeah, I'm coming."  Harry's voice was low, and maybe a little softer than usual, but Gemma just rolled her eyes fondly and walked back inside.  

            Once upon a time, Harry had doubted his place in the world, or in Louis' life.  They had whispered _forever_ into each other's skin and had kissed each other's ring fingers ever so lightly, but Harry had been scared of losing Louis.  And Louis had laughed at that, and maybe his eyes had sparkled too much, but he had whispered in Harry's ear, "You will live forever because I have written your name on the inside of every surface I could find.  And I have whispered your name to the wind, and to the trees, and they'll never forget you.  The world will never forget you.  And therefore, we will always be together, because if the world knows your name, then they'll also know the name of the boy whose mouth first uttered your name.  They'll always think of Louis and Harry, and maybe we won't be together, but we will always live together for eternity."  And Harry had smiled, and had kissed Louis like his lips were the stars shining in the dark, and he had known, known that he had been born to let Louis shine.

            "Harry Edward Styles, you better come in here right now or you're going to be the first dead member of One Direction."  

            Mmm.  His stomach rumbled at the thought, and he rolled his body to the side, facing his mum.  "Yes, mum, I'll be right in."  He smiled a cheeky smile, and his mum looked at him with suspicion before giving up and going back inside.

            Days like today felt good.  Harry wasn't a fan of the big life, and sometimes he craved a life enveloped in the sun, where he could reach out and pluck the stars and give them to Louis in a bouquet.  _Louis._   There wasn't a moment those five letters weren't muddled in his head, somehow.

            Groaning, Harry got up, sitting cross-legged on the grass.  He looked at the trees around him, at the stars, and felt the wind playing with his curls.  He thought of that man who he had met recently, with the funny mustache and the fancy top hat, who had spoken pretty words and flourished lies in Harry's ear.  The other boys had been there, but they had moved on much too fast.  The man was nice, and that was all Harry could ask out of a person.  Their meeting had been short, but upon leaving, the man had whispered, "Mostly I wish you joy.  Joy is the most important thing in life.  Wherever it can be found."

            And maybe the universe knew, and maybe it liked to mock Harry, liked to see his expression when such things happened.  For Harry knew Louis and him were _meant_ to be together.  The only way the world worked was in this way, and Harry was happy. 

            Joy.  Three letters, one syllable.  So small, so fragile.          

            Harry's mouth curved around the word as it left his mouth, a whisper only heard by the ants crawling underneath his big limbs.  He hoped it would travel long and far, reaching the ear of a certain boy who could only smile when a low, gravelly voice tickled his ear.

            But Harry wasn't done.  He wanted more.  And so he stood up and ran to the tree, hugging it before lowering his voice and whispering, "Louis Tomlinson."  And then he waited until the wind had picked up again before whispering sweet nothings into its ear, his message ringing loud and clear.  Maybe Louis was doing the same.  Maybe, Louis would hear him in his sleep, a flutter of his eyelashes his only response.

            Harry knew there would come a time when their love could be free, when their wings would grow and they could fly away.  They had talked about it often enough, when their eyes were heavy and their breathing shallow, small dreams spoken in hushed secrets to the only person who would understand.

            They would fly, and maybe Harry would pick out a star for Louis, and maybe Louis would bring a small pool of sunshine with him, and then they would leave and never come back.  For they knew that they were home only when their lips could touch and their hearts could beat together as one.

            For home is such a beautiful thing, and joy is all you need.


End file.
